i seek something more, something elusive, like silver sand. now I think I found it, and there, its gone again.

The hen who dreamed she could fly

This was the last fictional book I read - its been a while. It was surreal reading it at a time of the refuge crisis, immigration debates and at a time when many more women than before are arriving at their Forties in-style, only to be greeted at the door by biology. It's a book about a hen, who longs for a child of her own. Every time she lays an egg, she tries to will it into a baby with all her mental strength. But her will-power proves impotent to fight her age, the farmer and her circumstances. The days pass in quiet desperation. But then one day she escapes. Knowing the dangers that surround the hen-coop, the farmer and his wife assume she will be killed and dont bother looking for her, but by some freak accident she survives all the dangers: from the wolf to the roosters. The different animals live in the farm in varying degrees of autonomy and plenty. On her way out she lands with one and then other group; and they all treat her with different medley of acceptance and hostility, welcome and suspicion. Eventually, she makes her way to the hills, where she is free, but also has to deal with the menaces (like the vicious wolf and the dangerous snake) on her own. She makes a friend, adopts and child and finally sails away with her child to a far away land, dreaming of how she will always remember where she came from, for its bitterness and sweetness.